Home Again
She touched him, her warm hand molding to his cold, wet cheek. “I should have told you what parenthood was like.”
His eyes flew open and anger came flooding back. “It’s not about you, Madelaine. Don’t make it about you and what you should have done. I screwed up. Me. I shouldn’t have said I’d be her daddy—I took on that commitment as if it were no more important than deciding what coat to wear. I didn’t think.”
She drew her hand back. “So what are you going to do about it? You spent your whole life running from things like this, Angel. Are you going to run away again go nurse your fear with a bottle of tequila until you forget how much it hurts?”
The words hit him like blows. He flinched. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough. She’ll be back if she follows her usual routine, she’ll be back in about an hour and she’ll be mad as a hornet. What are you going to say to her? Hello or good-bye?”
He shook his head. “Don’t put this on me, Mad. I’m not strong enough….”
She gripped him by the shoulders and shook him, hard. “Don’t you dare say that to me, not this time. Nobody’s strong enough to be a parent. We just do it, blindly, going forward on faith and love and hope. That’s all it is, Angel. Being afraid, being afraid in the marrow of your bones, and going on.”
He stilled. A tiny shaft of hope flared in his heart. “You’re afraid of her?”
She made a snorting sound that was almost a laugh. “I’ve been afraid since the moment they laid her in my arms. Every time she goes to school or to a friend’s house or out on a date, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what the world will do to my beautiful baby girl, afraid of what I will do to her. It never goes away, ever. You just live with it and love her and be there for her.”
He let out his breath in a long, shaking sigh. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
She pulled away from him. “Only you can decide that, Angel. Only you.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Lina brought her bike to a stop at the end of the driveway. The lights were on at her house. She could see shadows moving across the living room window. A sinking feeling of shame tugged at her, but she pushed it away.
She walked her bike up the drive and leaned it against the wall. Slowly she climbed the creaking porch steps and paused at the front door. Steeling herself, she turned the knob and opened the door.
Her mother and father were at opposite ends of the room. As one, they spun to face the door and then froze.
Her mother smiled at her, a tender, understanding smile that made Lina want to start crying all over again. “Hi, baby.”
Lina looked at her father—but he looked away quickly. The panic she’d held at bay sneaked up on her, hit hard. She’d ruined it, her stupid, little-girl temper tantrum had ruined it all. She raced for her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Yanking the stereo on, she turned the music to an earsplitting level.
She collapsed on her bed and tried to cry, but the tears that burned so badly wouldn’t fall. Her shoulders rounded and she hung her head, staring at her feet.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
She thought of how her mother had looked earlier—her hair was messed up and her sweater was only half buttoned; her eyes were all misty and soft, and she had seemed unable to stop smiling.
Happy. Her mother looked happy.
And Lina had taken that away from her, she’d taken it away from them all.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Go away,” she whispered, waiting for the sound of footsteps. Her mother always paused a few seconds, and then walked away. Tomorrow they’d both pretend this never happened.
But the knock came again, louder, more insistent. Lina ignored it, and the door swung open so hard, it cracked against her wall. A framed eight-by-ten of Brad Pitt crashed to the floor, spraying bits of glass across the blue carpet.
Angel stood in the doorway, filling it. His dark eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and the ever-present smile was gone. He looked uncertain and ill at ease. With barely a glance her way, he stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him.
He crossed the room and clicked off the stereo, then slowly turned to face her.
“Go away,” she said. The minute the words came out, she willed them back. What she wanted to say was don’t go, but she couldn’t find her vo
ice.
He stood there, his hands plunged in his Levi’s pockets. “Look, I think I handled this thing badly. I don’t know shit about being a father.” He let out a little sigh and sat down beside her. The mattress squeaked in the silence. “But I know one thing—that woman in there loves you, and you hurt her feelings tonight. You know you did.”